The Face of Innocence
by Twitch Hopeless-Savage
Summary: She is a woman in the body of a twelve year old. A murderer, a lunatic. Death is her playground. She is Bellatrix Black.


The Face of Innocence 

Thigh high leather boots. That's what he noticed first about her. Most girls her age didn't even come close to doing them justice, but she filled them out perfectly. She grinned at him, her small hand running sensually down her flat chest, exposed mid-rift, straight to the top of the boots. Fiery black eyes stared right into him, taunting him as her little fingers toyed with the zipper. She knew what he wanted.

He breathed in deeply when she began to unzip the boots slowly, taking time to caress the milky white skin beneath. She never looked away from him, never blinked. There was a burning hunger in both of their eyes as they studied the other. His shaking hand went inconspicuously into a pocket to stroke his growing member. Even though she was staring deep into her eyes she still saw what he was doing.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to show me the cash?" Her voice was soft, almost sweet. This wasn't her first time doing this, it wasn't even her twentieth. She was a pro, she knew what could drive a man crazy, and that voice was the thing that sent him overboard. He pulled out his wallet and flashed several hundred dollar bills, she look disinterested. "Looks like you've bought yourself a night you'll never forget, trust me." She quickly zipped her boots back up and sauntered over to him, unwrapping a lollipop. Her deep red lips slipped slowly over it, just a bit of tongue licking the bottom.

The way she acted, the way she talked, it was disconcerting. He would have expected it from on older woman but with ones' so young you usually got girls trying to act like woman, she wasn't acting. She was a woman in the body of a twelve year old. And that made him want to enter her even more. His erection was rock hard and painful, like the ones he used to get during his awkward teenage years when everything turned him on, just thinking about it.

"So are we going to your place or a hotel? Cars are out of the question… to open." She tossed the bare lollipop stick onto the ground, licking her lips for the remaining sugar. She looked up at him and slipped her hand into his back pocket.

"A hotel will do just fine." His voice cracked as his stared down at her young face. "There's one not to far from here."

"Goody." And at the split moment she looked like a regular school girl, excited about going to see the boy band of the minute in concert. That's when he felt guilty, thinking about his own daughter at home. But then she caressed his ass and she became a woman again.

&

Bellatrix leaned against the dingy hotel wall smoking casually. She had a white sheet wrapped around her small body. It was covered in blood.

"Stupid fucking pervert," she muttered, sauntering over to his body spread out on the bed. Putting out her cigarette in his eyeball, she carefully studied her craftsmanship. The cuts around his midsection were a little sloppy, she had accidentally tore a whole in his stomach but that didn't matter. Everything else was perfect. There was a necklace of bruises around his neck from where she had strangled him. That had been music to her ears to hear his moans of pleasure cut short with gasps for air. The way he struggled to get away, the disbelief in his eyes at the idea of being killed by a child.

They all fell for it, every last one of them. Muggles were all idiots, and this one had been the dumbest of them all. He refused to kiss her, she could see the guilt in his eyes. There had been a picture of his daughter in his wallet, just a little younger than Bellatrix. And she knew he imagined her face when he fucked her. She knew she was what was keeping him out of his Princess' room at night.

If he had had kissed her the pain would have been lessened. Her lipstick had been mixed with a numbing potion. As it was she only strangled him to the point of unconsciousness, then she began to cut into him. Screaming, he had woken up. Luckily no one in this part of town paid attention to the screams of the night. And he screamed until death took him. She made sure of that.

In the beginning she had almost pitied the poor bastards, ending the pain quickly. But now the screams were a fix and the more they screamed the better she felt. It was her drug. And tonight would be the greatest high ever, tonight was the night that she would be found with the body… they wouldn't know it was her, but she would be there to see the cops faces as they stared at the mutilated body.

Bellatrix kissed his dead lips then lifted his dead hand, slamming it into her face. Pain shot through her body, but Bellatrix didn't flinch once. She did it over and over, until her small usually immaculate face was black and blue. What was a little pain in order to receive a single moment of ecstasy, she could already see the revulsion in their eyes, feel the bile rising in their throats.

She stuck her clothes into her purse and pulled out some overalls and a pink shirt. Chills went down her spine as her small body slipped into them. Disgusting. When that was done she turned her purse inside out and it became pink and covered in pastel flowers. She reached her hand in and pulled out a few butterfly hair clips, applying them to her ebony locks.

Studying herself in the mirror Bellatrix wished that she had chosen a better outfit, but the lady at the store had insisted this was the height of fashion. Bellatrix couldn't figure out how that was possible, unless the whole entire community of Muggles was color blind and tasteless. I mean overalls and butterfly pins… come on. Making a face of revulsion she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the police.

She watched herself in the mirror as someone on the other line answered. "Hello…"

Tears began to well up in Bellatrix's eyes and she made her voice as small and frail as possible. "Help me… someone's killed my daddy… they hurt me… please help me… DADDY!" She began to scream, tears rolling down her bruised face. A small smile flickered across her face as she told them where she was in a stuttering voice, breaking into sobs and shrieks every few seconds.

She dropped the phone and began to wail, watching herself in the mirror triumphantly.

The voice on the other end died and so did Bellatrix's cries. She picked up the phone and dropped it back on the receiver, dabbing away the tears with her. Laughter escaped her lips as she stared down at the body of the dead man.

Hopping up onto the bed, she straddled it and began to rock back and forth like she was riding a horse and began to sing a song she had heard on the radio that morning. His eye stared up at the ceiling, empty and cold.

Just like the eyes that had killed him. Those decisive eyes that had devoured the souls and so many men and would devour the souls of even more.


End file.
